


born in the cold

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While scavenging for ship parts, Enjolras finds a broken android with no name and the designation R-32.</p>
            </blockquote>





	born in the cold

The machine opens its eyes, grey and lifeless until they slowly turn blue as the rest of the system wakes up. It doesn't try to move, doesn't look around at its surroundings. Enjolras frowns, leaning into its field of vision and counts in his head. It takes the eyes, now glowing a faint blue, six seconds to focus on him. 

"Hello," Enjolras says quietly.

"Hello," comes the reply, its voice artificial and deep. 

"Who are you?"

"I…" the machine begins. It pauses and the whirring of its processing unit grows louder as it tries to come up with an appropriate response. "I am nothing." 

Enjolras frowns. "What is your name?"

"Name." The whirring grows louder. "Humans have names. I am not human."

With a sigh, Enjolras folds his arms across his chest. "What is your designation?"

"R-32."

"My name is Enjolras."

"Enjolras," R repeats. "Are you my master?"

"What? No. No, R, I'm not your master. You do not have a master. I just found you."

"So I have no function."

"We will find you a function, R. You need some repairs first. Your body is badly damaged."

"Oh." R finally lifts his head, looking unconcerned to find his entire lower half missing and his left arm in pieces. "Okay."

"I need to turn you off so I can transport you safely. Is that okay?"

R stares at him and doesn't reply. Enjolras' frown deepens.

"R, I need your consent."

" _Consent_ ," R repeats. "What is consent?"

"I need you permission to turn you off, R. I'm not going to do it without asking you first."

R stares at him a little longer. "I do not understand. You do not need my permission."

"But do I have it?" Enjolras presses, deciding the rest can wait for later. Right now, he just need to focus on getting R fixed up. 

"Yes," R replies, the blue glow to his eyes dimming into lifeless grey once more when Enjolras presses the power button.

:·:

"Enjolras, what do you have there?"

"I found him when I was scavenging for spare ship parts," Enjolras says, out of breath from hauling R from his ship to their apartment. He puts R down on the couch and the bag with his disassembled arm beside him. "I tried to find his legs, but I have a feeling they were crushed. He still works, but I think that he's an old model. He must have been programmed in a time when the robot and human distinctions were still very clear, from the things he was saying."

"We're going to fix him," Combeferre says, not bothering to pose it as a question when he already knows the answer. "I guess there's no shortage of android parts, anyway."

"Feuilly might be able to identify what kind of robot he was," Enjolras says, already typing out a message to him. "He needs upgrades, but I don't want them to be jarring for him."

"I'll call Courfeyrac and Joly over as well," Combeferre says, "unless you want to give it some time, so we don't overwhelm him when he wakes up."

"We'll wait," Enjolras decides, just as he gets a message from Feuilly saying he'll be over in fifteen minutes. "Help me move him to the workshop?"

"Does he have a name?" Combeferre asks, as he and Enjolras carry R between them.

"He says that he doesn't," Enjolras replies. "Says that names are something only _humans_ should have."

"Wow," Combeferre breathes. "He must be old."

"His designation is R-32, though. I shortened it to R when I was speaking to him and he didn't seem to have a problem with that."

Combeferre hums in thought, frowning down at R, but says nothing else as they make their way to the workshop. Feuilly meets them there soon enough, while Combeferre starts up his computers and Enjolras makes them plenty of strong coffee.

"Wow," Feuilly says, as soon as he sees R. "He's really beaten up, isn't he?"

"Found him among the debris of a ship," Enjolras says. "He must have been in a crash."

"Yeah, but look at these." Feuilly points out the depressions all over R's body, his bionic eye lighting up and processing what he sees. "That's not the kind of damage you'd see from a crash. I have a feeling he had these even before that."

"You're saying he was… what, old enough that he's been through quite a bit of wear?"

"Does he have a serial?" Feuily asks, as Combeferre opens the back of R's head to have a look. He finds the inscribed numbers there and swears lowly. "Yeah, no. He's not as old as you think, Enjolras. He's from one of the most recent lines of companion bots."

Enjolras' brows draw together. "But the way he was talking… he holds views that robots did _decades_ ago."

"Robots are blank slates when they're made," Feuilly tells him. "They're built with the ability to understand things to a certain extent, reflecting whatever the AI Council has decreed regarding robots' places in society, but it's up to whoever buys them to teach them those things."

"So what you're saying," Enjolras says slowly, "is that somebody purposefully _taught_ him these things? To make him believe that he has no personhood?"

"I hate to say it," Feuilly says, gingerly touching one of the depressions on R's chest, "but I think these were made by a fist."

"We're going to fix this," Enjolras mutters, scowling. "We're going to fix _all of this_."

Combeferre squeezes his shoulder gently. "Yes, we are."

:·:

When R's wakes up again, his body is entirely fixed. He's been cleaned up and no longer looks like he was in a crash, let alone that he was abused beforehand.

While fixing him, Feuilly had found that R's previous owner had put a blocker into his processor, limiting his ability to learn. Now that it's removed, R's eyes light up immediately when he's turned on. He sits up slowly and looks around, until his gaze settles on Enjolras. His eyes are already focused.

"Enjolras."

"You remember me."

"Did you save me?" R asks. "I think I remember being trapped somewhere."

"You were in the wreckage of a ship," Enjolras murmurs, walking towards the table that R is sitting on. "I pulled you out and we fixed you up. These are my friends, Combeferre and Feuilly."

"But you saved me," R says. "I was trapped. Before the ship. Back before— _before_. I do not remember. I remember being trapped."

"Yes," Enjolras says softly. "You were trapped. I'm sorry that it happened to you. I don't know who did it to you and I don't know why, but it's not going to happen any more, do you understand?"

R nods. 

"How do you feel?" Feuilly asks, stepping closer to R. "Do you understand what _feelings_ are?" 

R frowns, turning back to Enjolras. He slowly shakes his head. "I do not understand. Like _consent_."

"I'll teach you," Enjolras tells him, reaching for his hand. R doesn't startle away, turning his palm to press it against Enjolras'. "I'll teach you about the things you should know. About feeling, about thinking, about being a person."

"But I am not human."

"It doesn't matter," Enjolras tells him. "That doesn't matter at all, R. That doesn't stop you from being a person."

R is silent as he considers this for a moment, then looks at Enjolras again. "Can I have a name?"

"Yes. Of course you can." 

"I want to be… Grand Aire. Grand-aire. Grantaire?" 

Enjolras smiles widely. "You like puns."

"What are puns?" 

"I'll teach you about puns, Grantaire," Enjolras tells him, squeezing his hand. "I'll teach you everything." 

"Okay," Grantaire says, dropping his gaze to their hands. He glances back up at Enjolras, almost timidly. "…Am I really a person?"

"Of course."

"Okay." Grantaire sounds satisfied this time. "My name is Grantaire and I am a person. You are Enjolras and you are not my Master. You are my…"

"Friend," Enjolras tells him. He ignores the way his heart is racing, the way his hand tingles against Grantaire's artificial skin. He's just feeling protective, he tells himself. Nothing more.

"Friend," Grantaire repeats. He smiles at Enjolras. "You are my friend."


End file.
